


Rungs Of Me

by LydiaArgent



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 17:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3945583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaArgent/pseuds/LydiaArgent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carolina and Emily head back to Armonia to prepare for their mission. </p>
<p>(Takes place between s13e5 and s13e6).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rungs Of Me

Carolina has barely thrown the jeep into ‘park’ before she’s barking orders.

“You,” she points at a couple of soldiers. “Get to the armory. We’re going to need extra ammo, long and short range.“ She leaps over the door of the jeep and keeps calling out instructions over her shoulder. "Explosives if they’ve got ‘em. Tell Simmons I sent you; we need to scare him into giving up the good stuff.”

Emily follows just behind, talking full-speed into her radio, instructing the infirmary to get ready with kits with biofoam, compression bandages, laser scalpels. Carolina tunes out when she hears the word “experimental” said with a lot of enthusiasm.

Carolina doesn’t pay a bit of attention to who she’s ordering around. Both Kimball and Doyle have made it very clear that Freelancers are free to give orders to anyone, regardless of armor. It also helps that most people on base are a little terrified of her.

The equipment is far from what she’s accustomed to, but everything else is familiar – armor-muffled shouts bouncing in narrow hallways lit with shitty bulbs, the driving buzz of generators under her quick, even footfalls. Dinner must have ended. Soldiers are heading away from the center of the base, toward the gym and barracks and the firing range. Carolina loops through the mess hall, the armory, the vehicle pool, checking and double checking logistics with Epsilon.

“You sure this is enough fuel?” she asks, looking over the gas cans one last time.

“Weirdly enough, I’m totally capable of doing basic multiplication. _Yes_ , Carolina, everything is totally ready to go.”

“It’s a dangerous mission, and we need to be prepared. But all right,” she says. The halls outside the vehicle bay are empty now, everyone taking the chance to get some rest. “What have you been up to all night?”

“Fucking firewalls,” he mutters. “Been trying to get at some of Charon’s more fucked up holdings.” Epsilon sounds strained, distracted.

“Headache again?” She’s not sure what the AI structural equivalent of a headache is, but it’s something she’s definitely keeping an eye on.

“You’d have a headache too if you were trying to bust through these fucking things.”

“Probably,” Carolina says.

“You mind if I log off to work on this? You’re going to bed soon, right?”

“Soon enough.” Carolina throws open the training hall doors, and Epsilon sighs.

“Just don’t wear yourself out. Big day tomorrow.”

“I won’t,” she drawls.

Epsilon disconnects, the space he leaves behind ringing strangely hollow. Carolina doesn’t bother finding the light switch, just lets her helmet compensate for the dim red glow of emergency lighting. She sets off at an easy run around the room’s perimeter. Her armor works with the familiar pull of her muscles, the beginning of a burn makes her push herself, strides and breath coming faster. She isn’t sure how much time has passed when the lights are flipped on.

Not slowing her pace, she calls out, “Room’s in use.”

“You don’t say!”

Carolina’s loop takes her past the bleachers, where Emily’s made herself at home. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I wasn’t planning on going to bed any time soon. Thought I’d see if you wanted company!”

“I’m not going to entertain you,” Carolina warns.

“I’ve got work for that!” Emily shouts, her voice carrying across the room easily.

Sure enough, Emily’s engrossed in her datapad on Carolina’s next circuit past. Having her around isn’t distracting, exactly, since she’s not really doing anything. Carolina still keeps looking over.

“What are you working on?”

“Ancient Forerunner languages!”

Carolina’s not sure why that requires interrupting her late-night training. “Oh. Sounds… entertaining?”

“I don’t want to show up at the new temple and not be able to understand alien jesus!” She laughs, but it’s brittle. “How embarrassing!”

Emily’s weird. Intensely friendly in the middle of a base almost paralyzed with hostility, totally unconcerned when up to her elbows in gore. She’s been around a lot, and Carolina guesses they’re friendly, but she’s never really been able to get a handle on Emily.

This kind of commitment is something she understands.

She nods at Emily on her next lap past. “How far have you gotten?”

Emily reels off a sentence full of strange clicks and round syllables that would probably sound far more intimidating in a deeper voice.

“Should I be insulted?”

“No, silly! That meant ‘there is an imminent injury’."

“So I should be threatened,” Carolina says, amused. It’s probably not a bad phrase to know.

“Only by your patella!” Emily chirps. “I warned you about overcompensating with your left leg.”

“It feels fine,” Carolina bites out. It’s nothing that the armor can’t handle.

“The data doesn’t lie,” Emily says, waving her datapad. “Your armor feedback says some cross-training is in order! And when we’re done saving the planet, maybe physical therapy. If you feel like staying still for long enough,” she adds, as Carolina runs by again.

“Good luck with that. What’s the data say?”

“That the cumulative strain on your left patellar tendon is reaching critical levels. I’d be happy to fix it if we weren’t about to go on a super important mission!”

Carolina jogs to a stop in front of Emily and crosses her arms. “Are you suggesting I stop?” She throws up the question like a wall.

“I suggest strength and flexibility training! They help take the stress of the joints! My advice as a doctor who really would prefer to not do field surgery on you again. So inelegant!” She goes back to her datapad while Carolina stares, and is muttering more strange syllables within a minute.

Carolina knows her body, how far she can push. She’s memorized its breaking edge. And she trusts Emily’s data.

“How about you ride with me tomorrow?” Carolina says, dropping into one-armed pushups. “Teach me some alien.”

“That sound like so much fun!” Emily gushes.

“Definitely.”


End file.
